Floating Down the Canals
by sushisama
Summary: Sequel to Playground Rules. After Paris, the two thieves head to Venice to enjoy gondolas, churches, and each other. Thiefshipping, adult content.
1. Bedtime Stories

Sequel to Playground Rules. Was originally going to be one big story, then I decided to break it into three. Smut will be in each chapter.

Still don't own anything.

::*~~*::

Bakura made the decision that Marik was no longer allowed to choose their destinations after one moment of being in Venice.

Looking out over the water ways, he couldn't help the instant shudder that came over him. The thief was never partial to any body of water, as they always presented some hindrance to escape. And even when you did use them, there was a high possibility of losing your loot. Any experience he had with something larger than a pool (and he had at least two stories about those) was nothing pleasant, and he was already itching to get going somewhere else.

The only thing that kept his complaining to a minimum was the look on the Egyptian's face when they first got within sight of the Grand Canal. He had that look of wonder, the same one from France, and Bakura knew he couldn't deny the youth anything the city offered. Ignoring his prejudice for the city's set up, he let his blond companion drag him throughout the crowded streets.

One thing Marik had done right with this trip was his timing. They had arrived only days before some big boat race, and the days that preceded it seemed to have some big fanfare, as well as a large amount of tourists. This meant many a pocket to pick for both of them, and Bakura had even been so bold to lift things from shops over bared with customers they couldn't possibly keep an eye on everyone.

They ate well during their stay, all on another's dime. Marik had adjusted well and quick to the lifestyle of a thief, something Bakura had worried about at first. Though the Egyptian had no qualms with the former thief king's habits, he was never that adapt at stealing without minions before. But since Paris, he'd started taking what he could, and though he wasn't any grand master burglar, what he brought to the table would certainly aide them in the long run. And the extra money was nice for meals and getting into the more tourist areas.

Marik had him running around since they stepped off the ferry their first day there. It wasn't like Paris where they had time to see everything, they were only staying a few days (Bakura refused to stay longer than that, and it was already a fight to make him agree to three nights), and the blond wanted to see everything. Bakura had to wonder if this what every location would be like: Marik wanting to see everything he could, like a good little tourist.

He couldn't deny it's what he was doing, too, but he at least didn't stick out as much. Or maybe it was simply the world never really held that much wonder for him to begin with. His sight was so narrowed before, it was hard for him even now to take in the splendor around him beyond more than a silent appreciation. France was really the first place he'd explored in the past two years, and that had more to do with Marik's insistence than his own want. Before, he was only moving around not to get caught more than honestly enjoying where he was at.

But as the sun set over the Adriatic Sea, and the glow casted an almost ethereal luminance on the Egyptian's face that first night, Bakura put an arm around him and thought he could get used to looking beyond the wallets he picked.

The choice of the hotel came to Bakura, and he was grateful for it. He picked something in the northern part of the city, where there were fewer water ways and close to the ferry if he truly felt the need to escape. Always have a way out, it's how he always lived, and that wasn't going to change just because he had a bit more security on his side now.

The room was one more modest, a little smaller than the one they'd shared in Paris. It had only a bed, drawers, bathroom, and room for little else. Bakura had made sure it included a television, his choice in hotels now ranging on it if only so he could get some semblance of sleep at night.

The end of their first day had found Bakura taking a long shower to rid himself of the ick of walking around all day in the tail end of the summer heat. He sneered at Marik when he realised the boy didn't have as much trouble with sweat and heat, something he assumed came from his heritage. Bakura, on the other hand, though no longer as pale as Ryou, still had little colour, and certainly nothing like when he'd first been alive. It left him vulnerable to the sun, and from the slight tinge of red on his skin, he could tell he needed to actually use sunscreen here, unlike in France.

When he came out of the bathroom, Marik was laying on his stomach on the bed, the television on in front of him as his feet touched the headboard. He was going through a magazine, barely paying attention to the screen. With a roll of his eyes, Bakura quickly finished towel drying his hair before joining the youth. He sat next to him, his knee grazing Marik's exposed side.

"What are you watching?" Bakura asked, running fingers through his hair, catching on one of the beads.

Marik shrugged. "Some horror thing," he answered without looking up. "Left it on for you."

"How kind of you," was the response as Bakura put up his hair. He reached over the lithe body taking up most of the bed to grab the remote and turn it to something else. As much as he liked his gore films, he wasn't in the mood to watch Dawn of the Dead in yet another language.

When he settled on some drama (he had no idea what was going on, his Italian was rudimentary at best), he rested one hand on the other side of Marik, keeping his balance as he lazily traced a hand on the available flesh that the Egyptian's shirt didn't cover.

Marik grunted when the pale fingers touched him, making a half-hearted attempt at swatting his hand away, but didn't stop him as he grazed over his lower back. Bakura grinned, edging to his side, and he enjoyed the sound the youth made when he gently ran his nails from his rib cage to his hip. The magazine was forgotten, Marik tossing it aside in favour of burying his head in the blanket and just barely concealing a mewl.

Fully having his attention, Bakura adjusted so he was straddling his lower backside, getting use of both his hands to torment Marik. He rubbed circles along his sides, turning into scratches and back again. The blond kept his head in the mattress, determined that only it hear the noises he was making.

Bakura came to his back once more, replacing his nails for his palms as he gently massaged the flesh beneath his hands. Marik made another noise, this time a little more audible, and he took it as a sign to continue. His hands moved further up, under the thin nightshirt, until he was working on marred skin.

He could feel Marik tense up instantly, and he tried to push himself up, but Bakura just pushed him back down.

"Fluffy, I fucking swear-"

"Calm down, pup," Bakura interrupted, leaning over him so he could speak into his ear. "You're going to have to get used to this at some point."

"I fail to see why," Marik grumbled, the tension in his body still obvious with want to get up.

"Because I'm not going to stop." He ran a hand over his shoulder blades for emphasis. "Why don't you want me touching them?"

Marik growled. "I just don't like them being touched."

Bakura started working on the area again, his fingers tracing each line with no care for Marik's reaction. "There's more to it than that."

The Egyptian was still, his head down once more, but no sound immediately came from him. He didn't fight off Bakura anymore, but it was still a while before he relaxed, and required some more touches to his sides amongst the ones to his back.

After a few more minutes of the slow pace, Bakura took the hem of his shirt, pulling it up with one hand and using the other to balance himself as he leaned down. Marik stiffened at the feel of lips on his spine, his fingers digging into the blanket. His breathing was heavy as Bakura made his way across every hieroglyph, and he shuddered at every kiss.

When he got to the base of Marik's skull, he kissed his way up his neck to the shell of his ear. "Tell me why," he whispered in the boy's ear. "Tell me why I shouldn't touch you where I want."

Marik hesitated a moment before he fidgeted again. Bakura, out of something akin to mercy, lifted himself up as he gripped the Egyptian's shoulder to turn him onto his back before straddling his hips. Lavender eyes were glaring at him, and for a moment, the thief thought he had gone too far, but it was something they would have to address at some point, anyway. He liked the scars, at least what they meant for him, and he would be damned if Marik would keep them from him.

The blond bit his lip, still hesitant on answering. Finally, he said, "I don't think about them, not often. Just kind of forget how..." He sighed, closing his eyes. "Touching them, it just reminds that they're there, then I think about how... And..."

Bakura scoffed, tipping his head down to silence the youth with a quick kiss. "Idiot," he breathed against his mouth. He ran a hand across Marik's stomach in an almost comforting way. The Egyptian let out a breath, subconsciously reaching a hand to tangle in the white locks. Bakura kissed his jaw, trailing to his neck.

He wanted to tell him how foolish he was, holding to the past like he did, letting it break him instead of shape him. He wanted to mention how beautiful the scars were, how much he enjoyed looking at them.

But such sentiments caught in his throat, something forbidden for the former thief king to voice. He had grown up learning how to be cold, forgetting every emotion but anger and hatred. He didn't have to live like that anymore, but it was far from an easy transition. It wasn't something that translated well for him, but he didn't think it would for Marik either.

Were they any other two people, this wouldn't work. It was because they hardly functioned as humans that made it ideal, that meant they had a chance. But it still left moments like this difficult, where something was amiss, but Bakura didn't know what to say to fix it without some misconceived hit to his pride by sounding too sappy.

So instead, he chose not to speak, letting his body move him without more thought. His lips made a trail down the youth's body, quick to go lower and lingering on his stomach. Marik hissed at the contact, twitching under Bakura's mouth. With a smirk, the thief placed his hands on either of his sides, running his fingers up and down as he nipped the area around his belly button.

Marik groaned as his body arched up uncontrollably, seeking more of Bakura's attention. A hand was in the white locks, tugging as he breathed the thief's name ever so softly. As he kept up his torment, his body pressing down on Marik's, he could feel the reaction he was causing rising to poke him in the chest, and he got a wicked idea to do something about it.

His mouth still on Marik's abdomen, Bakura let his hands wander further down, hooking into the elastic of the Egyptian's pants. As he pulled them down just enough to reveal the erection hiding underneath, he wrapped a hand around the base, eliciting a hiss from the tanned boy. He grinned, moving his palm up in a rough stroke, expecting another noise.

What he got, however, was a rough tug on his hair, pulling his mouth away from the toned stomach as Marik sat up. He took Bakura's wrist, removing the appendage from his lower half. With a growl, Bakura sat up, equal glares of brown and lavender meeting.

"Don't," was Marik's stern command.

"Really?" Bakura retorted, unbelieving. "_This_ is where you want me to stop?"

Marik's gaze held fast, his brow furrowing. "You think I'm just going to let you... Ah..."

Bakura raised a white brow. "Let me do what?"

The Egyptian pulled away some, putting distance between himself and Bakura. "_That_."

"_That_?" the thief mimicked. "Do even know what _that_ is?"

Marik suddenly looked uncertain. "Umm..."

Bakura scooted closer, putting his hands on the bed on either side of the youth. He leaned in, and it was easy to sense his further unease as he laid a quick kiss on his lips. Marik didn't respond, his eyes still fixed on his pale companion. Brown eyes fell on the youthful face, searching for the reason why he wasn't allowed to continue.

"I wasn't going to fuck you," he assured.

"I know that," Marik hissed, though it sounded unconvincing.

"Then what's the issue?"

Marik just stared at him, lavender eyes indignant but didn't answer.

Bakura sighed, leaning back a bit as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He stopped his pursuit in favour of just deciphering what was wrong with Marik. It didn't make much sense why any man would just decline such an offer, especially one given so... willingly...

The thief groaned in frustration. Of all the things they would have problems with when it came to intimacy, control issues were the last thing he wanted to deal with. But after spending so many years getting his way through commands, not to mention everything else in his past about having no real power in his life, having things just happen to him without his say was probably the top of his uncomfortable list.

Even their first kiss had been odd. Marik hadn't responded, not until Bakura tried walking away, and the Egyptian drug him back for more. He needed to be in control, needed to be calling the shots. It wasn't something that would be acceptable too long, as the thief had his own power trip that wouldn't allow for it. But, for now, he could play to it, just until he could get him more acclimated to sharing control.

"Marik," Bakura addressed, leaning back in. He got close enough that they were only inches apart, but didn't push forward. A pale hand wandered on his hip, just until he was within fingers reach of Marik's wilting erection. "You should tell me what you want me to do."

Marik was quiet at first, reading Bakura's face, as if he might change his mind. When the white-haired man only returned his gaze with a steadfast look, his hand unmoving as he wanted for an order, the Egyptian started took action. He gripped the back of Bakura's head, pulling him in for a rough kiss that was returned eagerly and with a grin.

Marik laid back again as he deepened the kiss. While the one hand gripped firmly at Bakura's hair, he wrapped the other around his back, pulling him closer until their chests bumped. Bakura resumed touching his sides as Marik slipped his tongue into his mouth. He put up a half-hearted fight for dominance, conceding this one time.

Next time, though, he would take what he wanted, as the thief king should.

Breaking away for air, Bakura trailed to his jaw, kissing and biting his chin and some of his neck. Marik's tight grip pulled on the white strands, forcing Bakura to look him in the eyes. Brown eyes were almost nonchalant as he waited for whatever the Egyptian wanted.

Marik's words were simple: "Blow me."

Bakura couldn't hold back the snicker at his bluntness. "Not even going to ask nicely?"

The Egyptian smirked. "_Now_."

The thief grinned, quick to get in between Marik's legs, much like how he had tried to before. He practically ripped off the youth's nightpants before descending on his once more growing length. He took hold of it, giving Marik one last look, and when he nodded, smiling just so, Bakura wrapped his lips around the tip.

Marik hissed at the contact, arcing his back from the bed as he put a hand in the white strands. He hesitated, and Bakura knew he wanted to push him down further, but he had enough sense not to. As a reward for his restraint (and not gagging him), Bakura licked the slit, tasting the salt in his precum. The Egyptian moaned, inciting Bakura to move further down. He took half the length, running his tongue along the underside as he went.

Marik's grip tightened, and he sat up some, curling until he was over Bakura. A hand was on the thief's shoulder, and he urged him on as he went further down. "More, 'Kura," he commanded, his voice coming out as nothing more than a pant.

Bakura obliged, taking him all the way. As he started to go up and down, slow as he gently ran his teeth along him, he placed his hands on Marik's sides. He scratched along from hip to ribcage as he bobbed on Marik's cock. The youth let out a loud moan, curling in just a bit more. Pleased with the result, Bakura hummed, resonated more on him.

Bakura went at it for a long while, at one point taking a hand from Marik's side in favour of gripping himself, treating his own flesh rougher than the tanned youth's. Marik in turn was alternating between pushing his head down or just scratching the back of his neck, giving out little commands of what speed, strength, and other things until he was too lost to really be coherent.

After several minutes, Bakura felt himself getting close. He growled around Marik's length, as if it would inspire the Egyptian to get near his climax. Marik just pulled on his hair, leaning in to say, "Almost, kitty, just a little more."

Bakura swirled his tongue around the head before latching back on, giving him a hard suck. He could feel Marik shudder, and from the way he gripped his head, he got the hint. As he sped up, his hand moved back under Marik's shirt to trace the scars on his back. The youth attempted some complaint, but it was swallowed by a moan. He tried saying something, but when nothing came out, Marik just pushed Bakura down on him, one last shiver going through him as he came undone.

The thief begrudgingly took the sticky liquid as it came, quick to swallow it instead of gagging. The moment Marik was done milking into his mouth, Bakura quickened his strokes on himself, burying his face in Marik's stomach as groaned, covering his hand in his release. When he felt emptied, he removed himself from the youth who had fallen back, panting heavily. Looking down at himself, he shrugged, picking up the towel he had discarded earlier and spending a moment to clean himself first, then Marik.

With the towel and the soiled linen thrown to the other side of the room, the two spent a few moments readjusting as the got under the covers, Marik snuggled up to Bakura's back, as he had since the night they started to share a bed. Bakura turned off the light, allowing only the glow of the screen, and for a moment, aside for the noises from the television, it was quiet.

"Pup."

"What?" Marik answered, turning just enough that his voice wasn't muffed by his back.

"Next time, I won't be so nice."

Marik was quiet for a moment, and there was a second Bakura thought his wording may not have been just right. Then he felt lips on the back of his neck.

"Next time, you won't have to be."

Bakura grinned before settling back in and drifting off to sleep.


	2. Afternoon Confessions

Second part to the boys in Venice. More smut ahead, and, this takes place in a church, just as a heads up.

Still don't any anything.

::*~~*::

Bakura would be very begrudged to admit that Venice, despite the water ways and its odd maze-like layout, was not actually that bad of a vacation spot. Though the weather on the Mediterranean was warmer than he liked, the breeze through the streets was refreshing, and the pockets to pick were quite full.

The day had gone much like the one before, just different locations to spend time at. Marik seemed rather obsessed with the old buildings, especially the taller ones, and the morning was spent climbing up and down stairs. Bakura found himself once more cursing the youth's endless amount of energy, but made no verbal complaint as he was led throughout the streets.

He refused the gondola rides, though, no matter how many times Marik begged him for one. He was not about to climb onto one of those things: who knew when it would capsize, and the water below was just filthy, and... No, it just simply wasn't happening.

So Marik went without him, giving Bakura some much needed alone time. Because, no matter how much he liked the boy around (a thing he'd never admit out loud), he still needed that moment to breathe his own air. He had become used to surrounding himself in his own thoughts, being trapped in the ring for so long. He liked having someone to talk to, he really did, but it was like an annoying habit he couldn't kick: no matter how much he wanted to spend time prattling on and having fights, he still just had to get away.

It gave him time to consider the night before. He had no regrets or anything, regret was something the thief king could not feel. He thought of what it meant for the two of them as a... What would he call it? He would just think of it as _something_. Giving it a title would lessen its value to him, put it as trivial as the thing called 'dating' that people did now. The idea was laughable, how people danced around each other, to see if they were compatible or some such rubbish.

Bakura thought of the whole thing like heist. He had to weight the pros and cons, see if it was worth pulling off. This was different than any loot he'd ever taken before. He wasn't actually stealing anything, he was asking for it, a concept that was above him. But pulling it off would give him a treasure he had never even known he wanted: companionship.

He cringed at the thought, so pathetic it sounded in his head, but it would be lying to say it wasn't what he felt. So long had he gone alone, not just in the ring, but even the life before, that he had scorned the thought of ever needing someone so close. But when he had someone not just recognise him, but have such undivided focus, he liked it. He liked it so much, the thought of being without it now was unbearable. So he did the only logical thing: he stole the source of that attention.

Taking him from Egypt was the theft, the first part in taking Marik for himself, but at the time, he hadn't thought of it as that. He was willing to admit the Egyptian was his friend, and he wanted him close by, and that was a good enough excuse for both of them. But Paris did have an effect on him, one so profound he was able to just... fall into it. He had no precursor to any of his actions, but after each one, he felt he had finally done something right, and it led him to that first kiss. There was nothing magical about the way their lips touched - it was quite awkward and clumsy actually - but it mattered that it happened. That someone as heartless as Bakura could make that move and someone as broken as Marik would fall into step.

Nothing much happened afterward. They went back to the room, Marik gorged on some chocolate Bakura had stolen, and they went to sleep without argument over who got the bed (though Bakura made a great show of his disdain at sharing). The next day was spent on Mont Matre, then they had to rest for the plane to Italy. There wasn't much more that happened physically, not until last night. Bakura had occasionally reached out to touch the youth, either by wrapping an arm around him or tucking some hair behind his ear, but otherwise, he was rather hands off.

Marik was the one to be rather close, always putting himself right next to Bakura, kissing his jaw, or playing with his hair. He didn't really know how to respond, having never done anything like this. Sure, he'd laid with people when he was alive, but there was nothing more to it than a quick relief of a physical need. All the touching he had done before was rough and fast, and in quite a different nature. Putting his arm around him was about the extent of what he knew to do, and that's only because it was the only things in movies and television shows that didn't seem grossly inappropriate. The people that always had their tongues down each others' throats in public just seemed very unappealing, so he opted for something more subtle.

This left him with a quandary of what Marik may have wanted. He wondered more than once if the Egyptian wanted him to just be a little more... What would he call it? It wasn't affectionate, Bakura doing anything at all would be considered that. And it wasn't about discretion, he could care less who knew they were something. Just more physical, he supposed, though something was wrong about that, too.

Not that he would ask what Marik wanted. Words were still a constant fight for them, struggling not to just say anything, but say it right, without the other misunderstanding. No, if Marik wanted something more from him, he'd either have to come right out and say it (which probably wasn't going to happen), or just show Bakura what he needed (a little more likely, but there would still be some trial and error there).

There would need to be something done about their relationship in the bedroom, though. It wasn't something Bakura necessarily _needed_, but it didn't mean he didn't _want_ it. Even before emotions were involved, there had always been attraction. Maybe it was later blooming for Marik due to his secluded upbringing, but the thief was in no denial of the thoughts having him around led to, even years ago. However, he knew better than to just act on his carnal urges, no matter how scarce they were. Marik had his own issues to deal with, Bakura just trying to rip off his clothes and have him was not going to help.

He hadn't meant to let his lust get the better of him the night before, and even in an odd way, it hadn't. He simply wanted to show Marik there was touch he didn't have to be afraid of, that Bakura wanted his body because it was his and no one else's. This was for all types of touch, not just of the sexual nature. He wanted to be able to touch Marik's scars without him recoiling from his fingers, wanted Marik to let him touch anywhere without needing to give orders. Bakura wanted to take what was his, but in this one case, he had to be patient, and wait for the okay to proceed.

The patience wasn't sitting well with him.

After a little over an hour of wandering the streets, and some euros heavier in his pocket, Marik found him. The Egyptian seemed rather pleased, his grin almost breaking his face in half. The thief noticed with a raised brow he had a bag in hand.

"Enjoyed the water that much, pup?" Bakura asked as they made their way to a cafe for lunch.

"Didn't actually go," he chirped, taking Bakura's hand with his free one. The pale man bristled a little at the contact, and the Egyptian made to take his fingers away, but Bakura just held on. If it was what Marik wanted, then he'd oblige, no matter how long it took him to get used to it.

"Where did you go then?"

They were interrupted for a few minutes as they came to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant and were seated. From France, Marik had learned to eat big at lunch and little at dinner, and seemed keen on keeping the structure that way. Bakura didn't care either way, he always ate rather lightly (though he was becoming a fan of keeping salty snacks). He had told Marik if he wanted to keep up with the tradition, he would have to pay for the bigger meals, which seemed more of an incentive for him to steal, which was all right with his white haired companion.

"I went shopping," Marik answered nonchalantly, speaking over the menu.

Bakura was quick to decide on some large plate of lamb, his go to substitute when beef was unreasonably expensively. He eyed the Egyptian, who was probably deciding on what appetizer he wanted with his meal. "Why did you go shopping?"

Marik put down his menu, giving Bakura a pointed look. "For masks." His voice had the tone that Bakura should have, of course, know that.

Bakura just stared at him in response, his expression flat.

The conversation halted again for a minute while the waiter came for their order. As usual, Marik had to do it, because when Bakura tried to pronounce his dish, it came out all kinds of wrong.

Once the food was ordered, the Egyptian dug into the bag next to him on the bench seat, pulling out the mentioned objects. He handed one to the thief and held onto the other with a smile.

Bakura inspected the false face with an almost interested expression. It was a full mask, and it grinned up at him with vicious teeth and a scar crossing its nose. The eyes were only slits, and the whole thing had a blue theme to it, ranging from sky to navy.

"And what possessed you to get... this?"

"There's this festival thing, they always do it the night before the race. Everyone wears these masks, and-"

"And you thought I would want to join this festival thing because...?"

Marik smirked. "I wasn't asking you to go, but how good of you to offer."

Bakura scoffed. The Egyptian just shrugged. "Suit yourself: I'm going with or without you."

"With two masks," Bakura added, handing the leather piece back.

Marik didn't say anything further on the subject, though Bakura could tell as their conversations went on that he was upset. He always held back on their bickering when he didn't get his way. Most people would find this fortunate, but since the bulk of their communication was through petty squabbling, it was a little taxing in Bakura not to have Marik fight back.

After their meal (and Marik almost choking on the lamb he stole from Bakura in some brave attempt to try meat), they ventured out to one of the larger cathedrals. Bakura had no real understanding of Marik's obsession with chapels, but when the youth gave him a long kiss before leading him away, he found he couldn't deny him.

The church was completely devoid of people. The last tourist made way out just as they were coming in, and the pastor ducked out of the confessional booth into a backroom shortly after. They toured the pews and statues, Marik reaching out and touching everything he could. Bakura just watched him with an odd fascination, several steps away in front of the altar.

"We know that they're wrong," the thief said evenly as he took a seat in the front pew. He didn't even bother to keep his voice down. "Why do we keep coming to places like this?"

Marik looked over his shoulder at Bakura, a smile on his lips. "It's not to worship, that's for sure."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

Marik turned to fully face him, slowly making his way until he was sitting next to the thief. He bent down until their faces were only inches apart, and the strange giddiness on Marik's features made him nervous. He leaned forward, kissing the white haired man just below his eye, sure to run his lips over the raised flesh.

"I wonder," Marik started.

"Wonder what?" Bakura growled in response. The proximity of the Egyptian made his thoughts start to wander, and he was sure Marik wore those tight clothing just to bother him.

Marik gave him a wicked grin. "You like desecrating holy places, don't you?"

Bakura blinked in disbelief. Was Marik really making him that offer? After last night when he was so uncomfortable? But the Egyptian was still staring at him, his look serious, and the thief was not going to turn away such an unexpected gift.

The rustle of the bag hitting the stone floor brought Bakura back from his reverie. Marik took advantage of his stunned silence to climb into his lap, taking a firm grip of his white hair as he leaned in to capture Bakura's mouth. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him, but when he felt Marik's tongue running against his lips, he wasn't about to argue.

Bakura wrapped his arms around Marik's back, pulling him close as he went to war with their mouths, determined to make his claim. The tanned youth gave him a fight, though, pulling on his hair as he tilted Bakura's head, just to get a better angle. The thief growled, bucking his hips up, grinding against the younger body.

He wasn't surprised at the sudden tension that went through Marik's body at the contact. In a way, he'd done it to test his limits, to see how honest he was being. To see how much control he was willing to hand over. And from the way Marik pulled roughly on his hair so he could expose Bakura's throat enough to sink his teeth in, the thief assumed there wasn't any control he was willing to give.

That made the question come to how much Bakura was willing to concede to. Which in all honesty, there was much he was willing to give, but not without a good fight.

Bakura gripped onto the youth's hips, suppressing his moan when he brought their groins together again. Marik mewled, hiding it with a deeper bite. The thief started to move his hips, aching for more contact, but Marik had lifted himself up and off, standing only a foot away, but too far for Bakura's concern.

"Pup, what the fuck-"

He held up a finger to Bakura's lips, effectively quieting him. He grabbed onto the pale man, and without another word, dragged him along the aisles to the back of the monastery where the confessional booth was. He was grinning when he opened the middle door, ushering for Bakura to get in.

Brown eyes scanned the space before turning back to the half-lidded lavender ones. "That's going to be a tight fit," Bakura said without thinking.

The Egyptian's face was already flushed, going an even darker shade at the mistaken double entendre. "Just sit down before I change my mind."

Bakura didn't even hide his laugh as he sat down where normally the holy man would. It went further back than he thought, and it was wider than he would have originally imagined. He sat on the tiny seat, his shoulders the only thing a little cramped as Marik followed him in, closing the door behind him.

It was awkward at first, looking up at the tanned youth, only his silhouette visible in the darken space. Marik had no trouble at all it seemed as he quickly leaned in to kiss the thief, his hands easily finding their way to the hem of his shirt as he pulled it up just enough to rake his nails across the pale abdomen.

Bakura cupped Marik's jaw, bringing the kiss to the level it had been moments ago as he got a hand under his shirt to feel his back. Marik growled against his lips as pale fingers brushed over his scars, but it died when Bakura bit his lip. With a grunt, the thief found his head pulled back by his hair. He could see the glint off the lavender irises as they glared at him.

"Don't," Marik hissed against his lips.

"Marik-"

The Egyptian's lips this time were both quick and gentle when they met with the thief's. Marik trailed kisses down Bakura's throat as he took the pale hands in his, moving them so they were on the sliding portals and away from himself.

"Don't... Don't touch me," Marik's voice said faking its normal commanding tone as he met gazes with the thief again. "Not this time."

"_Marik_," was Bakura's reply, as if to convey the impossibility of the request.

"Deal with it," he quipped back, his usual authoritative voice coming back. His hand slid down once more, this time going so far to cup Bakura's erection, and he hissed at the contact through his painfully tight pants. "Or you get nothing at all."

Bakura's nails dug into the wood, and it took everything in him not to just grab Marik's head and shove it where he wanted it. But he knew better, he knew where this was coming from. Even in this moment, he'd find some sort of control. In fact, he probably liked this scenario better, having Bakura at his mercy, much like the thief had done to him last night.

Well, fair was fair, he supposed.

Bakura leaned forward, his forehead hitting Marik's. He used this as a gage where his mouth was, and tilted his head to lay a kiss on his lips. "I'll do my best." He pulled away after a swift nibble to his upper lip. "But I can't make any guarantees."

Marik seemed content with this response, and he resumed his bites to Bakura's throat as his hands wandered along his sides. He pulled up the thief's shirt, continuing his way down over the pale chest and stomach, kneeling as he descended.

Bakura inhaled sharply when he felt teeth graze his clothed erection. The wood under his nails creaked as he gripped harder, gritting his teeth as he kept his hands to himself. Marik was being agonisingly slow as he came to rest on his knees, with just enough space for him not to be horribly cramped. The Egyptian's silhouette had a glow around the edges from the little bit of light that came from under the door, and the sight made Bakura lick his lips hungrily. As much dominance as Marik had right now, it still didn't make this position any more appealing from his current angle.

Bakura watched intently as the blond took the zipper of his pants in his teeth, pulling it down with an awkwardness that came from inexperience, but when he looked up at the thief, Bakura knew he was just trying to be sexy. Even if he did have to try it two more times and in the end, when it was snagged on one particularly unforgiving tooth, he used his hands. Bakura sniggered at him, but was silenced by a very pointed look from his companion. He just settled for grinning as the Egyptian's attention went back to his lower half.

A shiver went through Bakura as his length was finally free of its tight prison. He exhaled his appreciation, only to growl low when he felt Marik's tongue on the underside of his head. The blond looked up at Bakura once more, his eyes holding all the control they could, though his hands, resting on the thief's knees, were shaking with just a tremor of hesitation. Without thinking, Bakura let go of one of the walls to reach down and gently stroke Marik's cheek. The action was quick, and the moment he was done, he returned his fingers where they once were, but that plus a small smirk seemed to be what the youth needed.

Without any further stalling, Marik ducked his head down, and Bakura held back a moan as half of his length was engulfed by that novice mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head back that he wouldn't let Marik see his response so openly. The wet heat around him felt amazing, of course, especially when he pulled back up just to sink back down, but he would be remiss to show any real enjoyment right away. Make him work for it, that's what he would have to do.

Even if he was naturally good with that tongue (how was he wrapping it around like that, dear Ra).

Marik started a slow pace, getting used to the size in his mouth as he only went half way each time. He moved a hand around the base only to keep it angled properly while he sucked and licked eagerly. He was a little sloppy, but it was far from something Bakura would complain about. It was something that would get better with time, and with the way they had been acting, time was on their side.

He also just didn't want to admit to himself that he might not have been all that great last night, either.

"_Fuck_," Bakura hissed through a ragged breath. He was sure the wood was splintering from where he gripped the windows, but he far from cared. He let out another growl, wanting more of Marik on him. He bucked his hips, but that only earned him a bite to the head of his member.

Before he could raise up in response, Marik had a hand on his chest, pushing him back down in the seat. He pulled himself away from Bakura, and when he looked up at the thief, his eyes were full of unbridled lust, and his lips were slightly swollen from his actions. He stopped any voice to argue at the sight, knowing it would lead him no where, that inevitably he'd just succumb to whatever Marik told him to do, and he just reclined at the mercy of his partner.

Satisfied with Bakura's obedience, Marik reclaimed his length, this time taking a bit more of him in. Here, the pale man finally let out something audible, barely containing his moan when he felt teeth just barely scrap his member. When Marik made another sweep, he got even further, and it was only a few more bobs before he was to the hilt. Bakura breathed an expletive as the blond continued, closing his eyes again as went the same depth over and over again, occasionally stopping on the tip to give it a suck and nibble.

It was getting too much for him: Bakura _had_ to get his hands on Marik. His hair, his face, his shoulders, he didn't care as long as he was on him. He couldn't stand this no contact thing, and he was sure he had pulled out the molding on one of the portals at this point.

"Marik," he panted out, opening his eyes just a bit. Marik looked up at him, the little bit of light flashing on his lavender irises in acknowledgement. "Marik, I need to-"

He hadn't even realised a hand was on its way to Marik's shoulder until the youth glared at him. Marik pulled off once more, giving his length a few swipes with his tongue, gently kissing the shaft as he kept his eyes focused on the thief. "Ask nicely," he cooed with a large grin.

"_Marik_."

Bakura shuddered when the youth ran his tongue from the base to the tip of the underside. When he teasingly licked the slit of his head, the thief lost all sense of himself, and he reached out for the Egyptian. Marik caught his wrists easily, though, watching him while he took the top of his member into his mouth, moving up and down with barely any effort.

"_Ask nicely_," Marik said again, his voice a husky whisper.

Bakura bared his teeth in a soundless growl. He had given so much of the control already, this was really drawing a line. But when Marik adjusted, making a move like he was about to stand up and just leave him like this, the thief knew he had to swallow his pride.

He would just make Marik pay for this later.

Bakura pulled back on his wrists, effectively bringing Marik to him for a kiss. "Let me touch you," he said through gritted teeth, though it still sounded pathetic in his ears. "_Please_."

Marik tapped his chin, still holding onto Bakura's wrist, in mock thought. "I suppose that's good enough," he said, smirking. As he spoke, he laid the pale hands on his shoulders before returning his attention to Bakura's neglected length.

Bakura gripped the tan shoulders as Marik took him fully. The Egyptian's hands were under his shirt, scratching the pale skin as he moved his mouth up and down. The thief let out another low sound, as the fingers of one hand tangled in the hairs at the base of the blond hair. The other hand was raking down Marik's back in a vain attempt to feel the scars under the thin shirt. The youth tensed at the contact, but he didn't let up on him despite his bristling.

Marik went at him for several more moments until Bakura knee he could take no more. He gave a meaningful tug to the blond strands, words leaving him as he felt the coil inside wanting to unfurl. He wasn't sure at first if the youth understood what he wad trying to convey, but when he pulled back until only his head was in his mouth, he felt like he was being given permission. He threw his head back as he let out an almost howl, his nails digging into Marik's skin as he realised into his waiting mouth.

Marik greedily took everything as it came, sucking on the tip until Bakura was empty. When he was finished, he loosened his grip, relaxing fully against the back of the confessional. He closed his eyes as he took in deep breaths, not really paying attention as Marik tucked his spent member back into his pants.

The Egyptian stood up a bit to lay a salty kiss on Bakura's lips. He opened the door and stretched after leaving the cramped space, leaving the thief in his post-climax haze.

"We should probably get going," Marik said casually over his shoulder. "I don't think the priest will like it much if he catches us."

Bakura just snickered at the notion as he zipped up and left the booth. He followed Marik as he went to the front of the church to retrieve the bag he had left behind, winding his arms around the blond's waist before he could bend over to get it.

He whispered into Marik's ear, "That just gives me incentive to stay for more."

* * *

**Jem Kallop:** You are the sweetest thing ever. Thank you for both of your reviews, they were amazing to read. I love it when I get more than a one sentence response. :) Characterization is always one of my favourite things, so I'm glad you thought they were spot on. Their dynamic is one of my favourite kinds of relationships, and I like to play with the difficulties they would have. Because they would have a lot. This was also a story to just get some of my headcanons out of the way before I started working on an AU mutli-chaptered fic for them. I hope you'll read it and enjoy it, too. 3


	3. Nighttime Boat Ride

Last one in the Venice series. And another chapter of smut.

I'm going to keep this 'verse open in case I ever want to write more in it. But I'm going to move on to an AU after this. That won't be as sex ridden. At all. Eeehhh, I'll probably write more in this setting just to get my smut fix.

Still don't own any characters.

* * *

There was no way Bakura was going to go to the stupid festival.

He was sure to tell Marik this, with much more colourful language, and laid down on the bed in the hotel room, unwilling to move for the rest of the night as he turned on the television. He was feeling rather lazy and cattish, content from the big dinner and their earlier excursion in the church, and he didn't want to go out again.

At first, he thought the youth was going to let him get away with the evening alone, as he just went to the shower and prepared for his evening in the Square. Bakura pretended to not pay attention as he flitted around the room after his long wash in just a towel. He put on his jewellery (some new bracelets he got in Paris and a necklace with some elaborate silver piece that came to his sternum) and makeup before digging through a bag from one of the shops he went to the day before. The tanned male donned some tight ensemble, his blouse leaving nothing to the imagination for the shape of his body. And his pants...

Bakura made a mental note to buy (steal, whatever) more of those tight jeans for him.

He didn't get to think more on the way the denim clung to his legs when a slim, tan body slinked on top of him. Marik was straddling his hips, leaning over until their faces were only a few inches apart. It would have been nice, were he not wearing the ridiculous purple and red half mask on his face.

"Sure you don't want to come with me?" the Egyptian asked low, hovering so close that all Bakura had to do was tilt up an inch to make their lips meet.

The thief ran his hands along the lithe legs until he rested on Marik's hips, giving him a firm squeeze. "I'm sure I don't want to be out there with a bunch of idiots."

"I'll be out there," Marik retorted, his brow furrowed.

Bakura just smirked.

Marik gave him a punch to the shoulder. "Asshole," he quipped, attempting to move and be away from the other man. But Bakura held him tight, keeping him in place as he leaned up to capture the Egyptian's lips. Marik stiffened at first, caught off guard by the thief's assault on his mouth, but he relaxed into Bakura's grip, kissing back feverishly.

Bakura moved a hand to the back of his head, tilting his jaw for better access as he bit Marik's lower lip. The Egyptian made a light noise, and the thief took advantage of his open mouth, running his tongue just inside his teeth. Marik ran his tongue along Bakura's, trying to get the upper hand in the kiss, but the pale man would have none of it. He had been rather lax in their intimacy so far, allowing the youth the control he needed, but that was as kind as he could stand to be. There was only so much power he was willing to relinquish, and he had used that up in the church.

Keeping a hand on his hip and the other firmly in the hair at his neck, Bakura bucked his hips, getting the leverage to flip their positions, putting Marik underneath him. He only broke their kiss for a brief second, enough time to remove that stupid mask before he was sure to reclaim his mouth now he was resituated. Marik grunted in protest, trying to pull away, but Bakura just descended more on him, pushing him into the mattress.

He had warned him, he wasn't going to be nice.

Bakura, in an act to keep him pacified until he calmed down, moved a hand to the youth's side, getting under the thin material of his shirt to be un his fingers along his side. Separating from his mouth for air, he raked his nails along the tanned stomach of the Egyptian, eliciting a mewl before Marik bit his lip. He glared up at the thief, lavender eyes full of agitation and defiance than fear or disappointment.

Bakura just grinned, enjoying the sight of the lithe body underneath him. Without another word, he leaned in again, laying a much softer kiss on his lips in some small gesture of an apology (well, not really an apology, more like an attempt at being nice). Marik seemed to relax a bit at both this and the hand rubbing along his side, opening his mouth more willingly when Bakura's tongue swept over his lower lip.

The kiss went on for several more moments, as Bakura's hands busied themselves with various parts of Marik's body, and the Egyptian had his fingers gripped in the white strands in some vague way of controlling the thief. Bakura was the one to break away for breath, but he was soon on the tanned neck, biting and sucking until there were darkened spots all along the side of his throat.

Marik growled, his body arcing up into Bakura's when teeth sunk into a spot at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He tugged roughly on the thief's hair, removing him from leaving any more marks as he pulled him in for another kiss. Bakura obliged him at first, eagerly moving his mouth against Marik's, but when the youth raised up, trying to flip their positions once more, he would have none of it.

Bakura took Marik's wrists in one quick motion, pinning them above his head as he renewed his assault on the tanned throat, giving him a particularly deep bite right below his Adam's apple. Marik let out a sound, something low, and Bakura grinned, thinking he had finally gotten the youth into submission.

But Marik still had some fight in him. He struggled against Bakura's hold, his feet in his lower back, trying to push the thief off.

Bakura turned his gaze to the youth, and was met with the still defiant eyes. He groaned, letting his body go lax over Marik's as he decided to give up, at least this time. If he was going to put up this much resistance, the thief didn't really want it. He took what was his, yes, but this was a different situation than lifting money from someone's pocket. He wanted Marik to enjoy it as well, and that wasn't going to happen. Not like this, not unless the Egyptian felt he had some control over what was happening.

The moment he had loosened his grip on him, Marik fidgeted away until he was no longer underneath the thief. He stayed close, his nose buried in Bakura's shoulder as the thief hid his face in the pillow.

"Bakura," Marik said softly. He tried to place the emotion he heard, if he was upset or concerned, or even apologetic. That was in there, too, like he was sorry.

But he didn't have to be sorry or upset or any of those things. Marik had a reason for his actions, it wasn't like it was out of left field or anything, and Bakura was trying to accommodate to the knowledge. Yes, he wanted the boy, and he would have him, but a compromise would need to be made, because he wasn't going to let Marik have rule, but at the same time he had to make him feel like the situation was completely owned by him.

He wasn't good at this, this caring thing. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to say - because_ something_ needed to be said - but that didn't mean he was so willing to give up either. As sad as it was, he didn't want to be alone the remainder of his years, and this annoying brat was the only person he could even remotely find himself wanting around. This meant he had to make it work, and do it from the beginning, otherwise Marik would just go back to Egypt, and he would be miserable. Miserable alone instead of with the only thing that brought something other than cynicism and irritation in to his heart.

But the words to fix the situation, to make things better, the ones that might actually get them both what they wanted, they didn't come. So, instead, he said what was probably the opposite of helpful:

"Just go to your fucking party," he grumbled to the pillow, just audible enough for Marik to hear.

Marik didn't move at first, his face still pressed to Bakura's shoulder, but finally he sighed and removed himself. It was another moment before Bakura turned just a bit to look up at the blond. He was grabbing his wallet and room key, putting them in those wonderfully tight jeans before he came back to the bed. He leaned over the thief, a strangely relieved look in his eyes as he laid a kiss on the top part of his scar.

"If you get any urge to mingle with the idiots," he said with a nuzzle right behind Bakura's ear, "you should come out."

Bakura grunted in reply, but before he would let Marik go, he grabbed his closest hand and gave the tanned knuckles a gentle kiss. The Egyptian smiled lightly, picking up his mask and leaving the room without another word.

He laid on the bed another moment, cursing to himself at his ineptitude at resolving this conflict. He didn't want to go through these hoops, to have to pacify his partner just so they could have a full relationship, but there wasn't much he could do. Unless maybe letting Marik... Bakura shuddered at the thought. No, that wasn't happening. Maybe further done the road, but he had his own hang ups; Marik wasn't the only one with issues.

With another aggravated sigh, Bakura finally got up from the bed to suffer through a long, cold shower. He willed away the thoughts of the youth, of their issues, and favoured thinking about all the rich tourists he'd seen around town, excited about the races tomorrow. So many pockets to pick, jewellery to lift, trinkets to take. And this weekend was perfect, tonight especially, with so many people distracted by the festival and their masks, and...

Bakura cursed. It would have actually been a wonderful night to be out with Marik, stealing from all the joyful masses. But he had been so preoccupied with getting more alone time, one of his larger needs, he hadn't even thought of Marik's wants or even what would inevitably be best for both of them.

As he got out of the shower and redressed, he thought of the things they would need to fix if this was going to work. Bakura knew they could come to some compromise for his alone time and their... couple time, or whatever they were going to call it, but he would first have to actually tell Marik it was an issue. Though the Egyptian understood him better than most, there was still things he wasn't going to know unless Bakura just came out and said them.

The thief rubbed his temples, the edges of a headache coming on. Maybe this was more trouble than it was worth. Maybe he should stop now, return Marik where he belongs and continue on without him.

But as he sat back on the bed, he knew that was foolish thinking. Marik didn't belong in Egypt, where no one understood him, what he went through, how it shaped him. They all thought that with the disappearance of his alternate self, he was a good little boy who could conform to society. But Marik hadn't done everything just for his other half, but because of what had _happened_ in his past to make that half _exist_. No one got that, could possibly understand that was what made him do such terrible things.

No one, that is, but Bakura, who was so similar, it seemed inevitable that they be brought together.

Bakura tried in vain to find something to watch, but without his translator as well as true source of entertainment, he gave up. Besides, he knew he shouldn't stay in the hotel when Marik was out there. He wasn't worried about him having fun, Marik could do that on his own, but wasn't it important that Bakura at least_ try_ to have some fun with him?

Give and take. That was the only way to make it work.

With one last grunt, Bakura grabbed his things and headed out the door, the blue mask Marik had bought him in hand.

**::*~~*::**

Though petty theft was something he came by with ease, it was on his larger capers that Bakura experienced a genuine thrill from his acts of larceny. The pockets he had picked, credit cards he stole, these were all meaningless things to people, money could be replaced, though it came with great stress to do so. It was the personal property, that was where the real crime was. Taking antiques or jewellery, the things that meant the most, that's what he considered the danger to steal because people would actually attempt to get it back.

It was nothing like robbing tombs, granted, but it was the closest he'd had in quite sometime.

The thief decided that any and all illegal activities needed to be done before he went to find Marik. For one, it would put him in a much better mood, especially since he was making a good stash of gold and silver this time. Another thing was if he was quick to get his fill of others' belongings, he could put more focus on the Egyptian.

He was almost giddy by the fifth watch, and though he shouldn't push his luck, he found he couldn't help himself. He felt invigorated, and in more ways than one. He was starting to get overly excited, impassioned by one of greater joys, and when he was nearing the end of his silent raid of the tourists, he couldn't help but feel an actual need to have skin against his.

Specifically, _Marik's _skin against him.

He only stole from one last person before making his way to the Square, and very meaningful theft, unburdening a wealthy looking woman of a thick gold chain that hung low with a beautiful amethyst point. The cut and polish was fine, and the colour made Bakura think of his Egyptian's eyes. Smiling to himself, he followed the sound of music and the scent of food to where the main festivities were being held.

The Square was large, but Bakura knew that before hand. They had walked through it several times while roaming the city these past two days, and he knew what shadows were where to edge along until he could get his hood down and his hair free from the back of his collar. The hoodie Marik had made him buy in Paris had come in handy, not only with its many pockets (which were now full of stolen contents), but because it hid his hair and face well, all remarkably identifiable features.

As he wandered the edges of the Square looking for the familiar face he came for, he donned the mask to blend in with the rest of the masquerade. It wasn't as though he had to - there were plenty of people without one - but he was sure Marik would like it better if he was wearing it.

It only took a few moments before his eyes landed on the tanned youth. He had gotten himself in the middle of a large crowd cheering and dancing, making a spectacle of himself as he went from partner to partner with a large grin. Boys and girls alike were watching him with a mix of interest, awe, and lust. Of course, that must be true anywhere he went, because Marik was something unique even in his own home, and he was a sight to behold.

Bakura had a sense of pride wash over him. Marik could have anyone in this Square, this city, the world, but he chose the thief over such frivolities. There was something about that, he couldn't help the genuine smile it brought to his face, one he had for a fleeting moment. Nothing that anyone but he would be allowed to know about.

As the music came to an end, Bakura watched as Marik left the crowd, turning his attention away from anyone that wanted to follow him as he found a beverage cart and purchased something for himself. The tanned youth then escaped the eyes of the crowd, finding a spot of solitude as he rested and drank what looked to be wine.

Bakura followed his steps, keeping a distance until he was sure the blond wasn't going to be pursued by any fans. Assured it was just the two of them in the secluded corner, the thief crept up behind his tanned companion, and wrapped his arms around him from behind. He was met instantly with a struggle, one that he alleviated instantly by whispering into Marik's ear:

"Calm down, pup."

Marik relaxed quickly, sagging his body against Bakura as he let out a sigh of relief. "You jerk," he chided. "Thought you didn't want to come among the idiots?"

Bakura nuzzled the youth's jaw before nipping at the skin playfully, though it was a little difficult through the mask. "I guess I'm one, too," he commented, lifting the leather face to the top of his head so he had better access to Marik's skin.

He meant it as an apology, and when Marik turned his head to kiss give him a quick peck on the lips, he assumed it was understood. He liked this form of communication: he actually knew what he was supposed to do.

Bakura resituated his arms so his hands rested on Marik's hips, and he kept his face buried in the tan neck, leaving little nips that were increasingly getting rougher. He should have probably let up on him, especially after earlier, but he was still feeling alive from his spree, and his need for stimulation had not waned despite his common sense trying to tell him better.

As he ran a hand up Marik's side, the youth moved into his touch, tilting his neck just a bit for Bakura to get better access. He was being far more responsive than earlier, even allowing himself to make an audible noise that just made the thief press up against him harder. He kept himself from being too bold, though, making sure Marik had free use of his arms and a grip loose enough that he could push away. He was getting another chance at this, and he was determined not to mess up again.

There was a way to make this work, and he would find it.

"You're in a mood," Marik said low, reaching an arm back so he could grab a handful of white hair. He gasped at a particularly hard bite, and the way he pushed back against Bakura sent a jolt of electricity down the thief's spine.

"And you're being rather friendly," Bakura retorted. He trailed kisses up his throat and to his jaw, enjoying the little sounds the youth was making. He reached up, taking off that stupid half mask, wanting to see all of his face. He put it in one of his many pockets before returning his touch to him.

"I was just thinking," Marik returned as he adjusted in Bakura's arms so they were facing each other.

"About...?" Bakura led him on.

The Egyptian kissed him again, hard this time, his body pressed against the thief's. Marik wrapped his arms around his waist, keeping the one hand with the drink a bit away to not be jostled by their activities. Bakura held him in place by the back of his head, tilting his chin enough that their lips were more aligned.

Marik bit his upper lip, giving it a tug, and Bakura opened his mouth in response. He met his tongue in the middle, dancing against each other, and neither really dominating the kiss at first. The Egyptian added a little more force, bending Bakura back as he gripped harder to his waist.

Bakura let him have it. Let him have this moment of control, but not for long. From the way Marik was pulling his hair at the base of his skull, if he let it continue, he would get the wrong idea of what was allowed. Because what Marik was thinking was not what was going to happen.

Which led to the question of how to turn this around while keeping up Marik's illusion of control.

"Marik," he breathed, pulling away from the Egyptian's mouth. Lavender eyes looked at him, giving him only a glance before he moved in again for another kiss. Bakura moved his head further away, keeping several inches between their lips.

Marik glared. Bakura grinned.

The thief put his hands on Marik's shoulders, pushing him away. The Egyptian seemed a little put off by the lack of contact, but Bakura was quick to wrap an arm around his waist. "We should find somewhere more... hmm, private, don't you think?"

Marik gave him a look of scrutiny before looking over the crowd. No one was watching them or anything, but it wasn't like they were incredibly out of the way, either. Anyone could come by them and whatever they happened to be doing. Even the stubborn youth couldn't deny they needed to find somewhere a little more secluded.

The Egyptian nestled against Bakura's side, making some sort of noise of agreement. "You don't want to go back to the hotel, do you?"

The edge of disappointment wasn't hard to hear, and Bakura gave his hip a squeeze. "No, it's, umm... a nice night, we should stay out." It was a lame statement, but he had to find something to justify staying out other than he was doing it for Marik.

If Marik thought it sounded as bad, he didn't let on as he nuzzled Bakura's jaw. "What did you have in mind then?" he inquired low, turning his head enough that he could speak in his ear.

Bakura took the cup from his companion, throwing it back with one large gulp (that disgusting dry wine he likes), and threw the piece of plastic over his shoulder. He turned from the crowd, taking Marik with him as he started down the emptier streets away from the masquerade. The Egyptian was only led a little way before he detached himself, his energy too high for some leisurely stroll. Bakura just watched him as he wandered ahead, a little jump in his step to the beat of the fading music.

They came to a corner street that was edged by water on two sides. There was a dock with a couple of unattended gondolas, one with a canopy on it that he assumed was for a 'romantic' escapade. It made the thief think of Marik's stupid obsession with the things and how he so badly wanted to go on a ride on one. They didn't look fun, though, just an excuse for two people to be cramped together, one with the idea of copping a feel on the other, and...

Bakura grinned.

Taking his hand, Bakura pulled him to the boat with the canopy, with little protest. When they were on the edge of the short dock, Marik yanked on his hand, wrapping his arms around Bakura's neck as he leaned in for a kiss. When the Egyptian pulled away, he was smiling.

"Thought you hated these things?" he asked with a smirk.

Bakura shrugged, his expression even as he pulled away to step into the boat. "I think I can stand it for a little while."

"A little while, huh?" Marik mocked, coming to sit next to the thief under the canopy, making the gondola rock a bit. He let out a chuckle when his neck was assaulted the moment he was situated, tilting his head up so Bakura could get beneath his jaw. "You know, it would be more fun if we were, you know, moving..."

Bakura growled against the tanned skin. "This is the best you're getting from me, pup." He cupped Marik's jaw, moving in for another kiss. Marik's hands tangled in Bakura's mane as he opened his mouth. He was eager to turn up the heat, his tongue already in his companion's mouth.

Bakura gave a tug at his midsection, and the Egyptian repositioned himself in his lap, his mouth still pressing hard against the thief's. As the boat rumbled under their movement, Bakura wrapped his arms around Marik's waist, pulling him close as the kiss became more about teeth and dominance than anything else. The moment they needed air, Marik was moving to bite down the pale neck, leaving marks like Bakura had done to him earlier.

He moved his head to let Marik have more access, using the distraction to get his hands under the Egyptian's shirt to trace his scars. He grunted when teeth sunk into his throat, but he didn't let up, his fingers working into the marred flesh. Marik just busied himself with unzipping Bakura's hoodie, moving it from his shoulders as he trailed his bites along the exposed flesh. In return, the thief rocked against his lower half, groaning at the feel of their clothed erections rubbing against each other.

Marik tensed, much like how he had earlier in the day when in the same situation, but Bakura wasn't about to let him get away this time. He had an idea, one he was sure would work, and he had no intention of giving up so soon.

When Marik pulled away to glare at Bakura, the thief came in for a kiss, silencing him before any protest could be made. He rolled his hips again, and he could feel rather than hear the mewl that came from the youth. His hands dipped down, squeezing his rear through those enticing jeans, using the grip to bring their hips together again and again.

Marik shuddered with each contact, his body arcing into Bakura's. The thief continued their kiss as one hand went in between their bodies to the front of Marik's pants, pulling down on the zipper before he went for his own. The Egyptian seemed unfazed at first, still responding to their kiss, until Bakura's hand was wrapped around his length. He jerked, but Bakura kept him in place with the other arm still around his waist.

"Marik," Bakura said low as he pulled away. He met the lavender eyes, keeping his gaze as soft as was possible for him.

"Fluffy, I-"

"Shut it," he interrupted with another quick kiss. He was done coddling the boy. If he was lax throughout all of the beginning, then he would be miserable while Marik got his way. The give and take, it went both ways. Even though he would have to compromise at first.

Bakura sighed before leaning in to nuzzle Marik's neck. "Trust me, okay?"

Marik was silent at first, but after a moment, he wrapped his arms around Bakura's shoulder and nodded slowly against his scalp.

Bakura leaned in for another kiss as he moved his hand along Marik's member gently and slowly. He spent a moment more just kissing and stroking him, and the youth seemed to relax more into his touch. When he felt Marik was calm enough, his hand left his length to take the hem of his pants, and he started tugging at the denim. The Egyptian grunted, reluctant at first, but he lifted his hips up enough that he could get his pants down his thighs. Bakura pulled him close, getting Marik's legs around his middle, as he left his mouth for kisses down his throat. His length ran up the tan backside, and both of them cringed at the feeling.

Bakura grinded against him for another moment before he pulled back, bring a hand to his mouth. He was about to lick one of his fingers when Marik grabbed his wrist. A white brow raised as he gave him a questioning look, but lavender eyes just narrowed at him. His face was determined, and he let go of Bakura's hand to bring his own fingers to his lips.

The thief was confused for a moment until Marik started sucking on his middle and ring fingers. Brown eyes were transfixed at the sight, how slow that tongue swirled around the digits, and Bakura was _sure_ Marik knew what he looked like while he was doing it. Finally he pulled his fingers out of his mouth and reached around behind himself. The front of his body leaned forward until his chin was on Bakura's shoulder, giving the thief a wonderful view of his backside.

Taking each of Marik's cheeks, Bakura spread them as the first digit entered him. There was a muffled sound against his shoulder as he pumped in and out, and Bakura subconsciously started to rock against the lithe body. He clamped his teeth into the tan shoulder as he intently watched Marik finger and stretch himself and shuddered to every sound he made. It was getting hard for him to stay still, though, he wanted - _needed_ - to be inside of him.

"_Pup_," he hissed into his ear.

Marik nodded, removing his fingers from himself. He grabbed Bakura's shoulders, lifting himself up over the thief's waiting member. He looked him over, lavender eyes searching, and Bakura leaned in for a kiss.

Bakura ran his fingers along Marik's side, eliciting a moan before he set his hands to his side in a display of giving the control to him. He could feel the corners of Marik's lips turn up as he began to sit down in his lap. Bakura sighed while Marik hissed, not really moving down more than just the head. He didn't go any further than that, grinning against the thief's lips, as he stilled to test Bakura's resolve.

He waited a moment, his grip tight on the wooden seat, but when Marik didn't move, he growled. "I swear, if you don't-"

Marik bit his chin as he moved down just a little more. "Calm down, kitty," he soothed. "Let me have fun with this, right?"

Bakura glared at him, but opted to bite him under the Adam's apple. Marik was slow, going half way down him before pulling up, leaving only his head inside before going back down again. He went shallow for several thrusts, and it took everything in the pale man not to just start rocking into him. But he was going to let him have this moment, this compromise of control, before he took it back. He just had to wait until Marik was too gone to argue.

Marik pulled on Bakura's hair, tilting his head back as he captured his lips for a fierce kiss. Bakura moaned into his mouth when he finally sat down all the way, his entire self filling the youth. He enjoyed the feel of his tight heat, and when Marik started to move along him, he rocked his hips in time with the Egyptian's rhythm. He could tell he was starting to get hazy with pleasure, how he was starting to let Bakura move without any sign of protest.

At one particular thrust, Marik threw his head back with a loud moan. His grip on Bakura was getting tighter as he bounced in his lap. With a groan, the thief put an arm around his back, a grip to help move him as the other one came to wrap around Marik's member. The youth shuddered at the contact, his mouth meeting Bakura's again for another bruising kiss as they continued to rock against each other.

It felt all too soon, but the growing warmth in his lower half was getting too much. He pulled away to bury his forehead in Marik's neck, holding tighter to the tan body in his arms. He quickened his pace on his member, the twitching from Marik a hint that he was just as close.

"Fuck, I'm almost-"

Bakura could feel Marik's shudder as he nodded, saying something that might have been an agreement, but it came out as an undeterminable noise. There was only a few more thrusts before Bakura roared against Marik's neck, slamming himself against him as he released deep inside.

He was still for a moment, breathing heavily, until he realised Marik hadn't joined him. He gave a few more strong strokes to the length still in his hand. The Egyptian curled in on him, holding tight as he spasmed, and Bakura could feel the sticky substance cover his hand. He rubbed it off on the thick curtain, making it someone else's business to clean up.

They sagged against each other as they caught their breaths, the boat settling along with them. After the few moments, Marik lifted his head, pressing his lips gently to Bakura's. The thief kissed back, hands on his back, before he pulled away to recline against the seat of the covered gondola. Marik adjusted his pants, getting them up his hips and zipped back up, and Bakura did the same before he settled back against the white-haired man's chest.

As they were quiet for just a minute, Bakura smiled to himself. For not being completely in control of the moment, that had been rather pleasant. Compromise apparently went different than just in his favour, but he could deal with it. Easily, if it meant feeling Marik around him again.

The other side effect of good sex was apparently Bakura feeling amazingly affectionate. He held onto Marik's form, nuzzling into his neck as the youth relaxed fully against him.

"Okay," Marik muttered into Bakura's shirt.

"Okay?"

The Egyptian nodded. "Yeah. That was..." He paused. "...I can do that."

Bakura smirked. "Of course, and you were rather decent at it."

Marik punched his shoulder. "Shut up, you know what I mean." He clicked his tongue. "And decent my ass, I was _wonderful_."

The thief rolled his eyes despite Marik not being able to see it. "Your ass was wonderful at least."

"Gods, you're a jerk."

"And you're still a brat."

"At least I don't ruin the moment," Marik murmured. "I was trying to be serious."

Bakura sighed. He wanted something for the moment? Fine.

Marik grunted when he was lifted from his spot, but Bakura paid him no heed as he separated himself enough to reach into one of the pockets of his hoodie. Lavender eyes watched him as he reached behind the tan neck, clasping the gold chain in place. He sat back, a smirk on his lips as the Egyptian picked up the pendent and studied the amethyst.

"When did you get this?"

Bakura shrugged. "Guess this party had something to interest me after all."

Marik tried to glare at him for the comment, but it had no weight to it as he just nestled back against his companion. "It looks okay, I guess."

"Brat," Bakura reiterated. He smiled, though, when he noticed Marik still held the pendent in his fingers.

They fell quiet again until there was a mutual agreement that it was time to get back to the hotel. Along the way, Marik had an arm around Bakura's waist, and eventually the thief put his hand on his shoulder.

"Monaco," Marik said as they strolled.

"I take it I have no say in this?"

"Nope," the Egyptian confirmed, the grin in his voice. "Already got the tickets."

"Of course you did, Marik. Of course you did."

* * *

**Jem Kallop**: Hope you liked this part as well. I had lots of fun writing Bakura's unwillingness to bottom. XD I'll be putting up the AU soon, so keep an eye out for that. Thanks for all your awesome reviews. 3


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